Beatrice”s mother was called Beatrice two, this day she stood, looking up at her derelict home. She said”, in Canada where our wiser ancestors fled, this would be conndemed as a tumble-home- shack. Let”s patch it up and wait till your father comes back.
“If Lloyd were a carpenter not what he his, a traveling salesman so nice he gives his small goods away, we would not have such large holes in the house walls today. Godfrey helped the Beatrice”s patch up the holes, he nailed up the eaves-troughs all falling down,they set the goats to the brambles and weeds that grew thick in the junk strewn ground. They selected a shade of Puce for house paint, with a trim of Horse-Slobber-Green. Uncle Lou dropped by and with a rude belch declared it the ugliest house he had ever seen.
.”.If Lloyd were a carpenter he slurred, after his dinner of beer, I’d tell him to place the whole thing on a barge and haul it away from here. Said Miss Commerford the school nurse, (she spits when she talks)”A puce house full of animals, tis a blot on the landscape,a hazard to hyegene to let chickens roam in a home” Godfrey ignored the bickering; up the ladder with plans of his own. He knew seeing donkeys in the sitting room drove the spitting nurse round the bend, he also knew love held up the walls, of the home of his lifelong friends.Godfrey understood what Lou did not; unhappily married in his spotless home, that night he hauled the puce paint over there and gave them a trim to: Horse-Slobber-Green of there own. Uncle Lou traveled with his band he played the slide trombone,the screaming voice was high and shrill next time that Lou rang home. His family awoke that day in a house painted puce and Horse- Slobber-Green, no love inside to hold up the walls of the ugliest house Godfrey had ever seen.
Dear Worzel; came a letter, I am sure dreadful stories have been sent to you, my name is Ashley Gland- daughter of poor old uncle Lou. My dad drank alcohol, my cousin Godfrey was a social outcast, something of a twit, he disliked beets and we all picked on him because of it. Godfrey left home at 16, too big now for my dad”s abuse- but before he left he painted our house puce!!!. I know it was your Godfrey for he etched in a block of fresh concrete- he etched Farewell, farewell, from Godfrey, for I do not like beets!!. UNCLE LOU; ON THE LONG JOURNEY ON- Godfrey wrote this eulogy of sorts many years later when word reached him of his uncles demise- You are gone but not forgotten Uncle Lou.I doubted you were a real uncle but without complaint I put up with you.I have scars from being chased and the beets you threw. Uncle Lou Gland- you played slide trombone in the worlds worst band, with Backdoor Jimmy, on trumpets Wally and Cecil Plank, sister Alice on vocals, old Mavis Krept on piano in the back. I remember you uncle Lou, your cheap suit of powder blue, every year on my birthday, you ate the cheese and pickle sandwiches and treats, you blew out my candles,you got sand in the mustard, I’d throw up when you chased me with beets through the graveyard.
Now I’m told now you are gone your’e life was miserable and hard…how lonely it all must have been, searching all your life for that place to belong, Alice always said you really inside, were not a nasty guy, you just never made it in life no matter how hard you tried. He was eating Fish N Chips, he was playing one last song on his precious trombone when the train came along..why he chose to be eating his dinner on the tracks, we never knew- you are gone but not forgotten uncle Lou.